Girl on the Edge
by MoLeft
Summary: Lisbeth tries to create a new life for herself in the aftermath of Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.
1. Chapter 1

_Set about one year after the end of Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest._

With her eyes still closed, Lisbeth Salander's hand fumbled around on the nightstand until her fingers closed around her iPhone. Phone finally in hand, she opened her eyes, squinting narrowly to focus on the numbers on the glowing screen. 12:36 PM.

With a tired sigh, she tried to remember what day it was. After a couple seconds of debate, she decided it was Tuesday. Definitely Tuesday, she thought.

She had a splitting headache, a remnant of the night before. Rummaging through the drawer of her nightstand, she found a bottle of Ibuprofen and chased three pills with a gulp of water. In the future, she should really try to remember that drinking at home alone out of boredom on a Monday night was a recipe for a gigantic hangover.

Closing her eyes against the light from the windows, Lisbeth thought about the day ahead, but there wasn't much to think about.

She didn't have any work to do. Dragan Armansky had fewer and fewer assignments for her since Milton Security was focusing their work in areas other than personal investigations. This didn't necessarily bother Lisbeth; the reality was that very few of Armansky's projects were challenging, and even fewer were interesting. Too often assignments were inconsequential investigations of potential employees on behalf of a company. Not exactly intriguing work. Staying in bed sounded more rewarding than that.

Still holding her iPhone in her hand, Lisbeth's eyes scanned over the icons on the screen. She saw that she had a new voice mail. She tapped the voicemail icon, prompting a familiar voice to emerge from the phone:

"Lisbeth, it's me. Call me when you get this."

She shook her head and sighed. Kalle Fucking Blomkvist.

It had been more than a year since the night she let Mikael into her apartment and back into her life. It had been an impulsive decision; she hadn't necessarily _wanted_ him in her life, but after everything that happened, it seemed wrong to shut someone out who, for whatever reason, still wanted to be her friend.

Lisbeth was not in the habit of looking for friends and never had been. But she had so few friends in this world that it seemed stupid to throw away the one she did have, even though that's exactly what her not-entirely-healed-heart would have preferred on that chilly November evening.

As time passed, Lisbeth became more accustomed to having Mikael back in her life, but that didn't mean that always liked it. There were moments when the pain was as acute as the snowy night she saw him with Erika Berger years earlier.

But, at other times, she was reminded of why she fell for him in the first place: he didn't judge her for being different. As the months progressed, she realized that she needed this in her life, regardless of whether it came in the form of a friend or a lover. And so Lisbeth settled into a strange-sort of friendship with Mikael.

But things had become more strained recently. He had been dropping by her apartment more frequently, and it always seemed to come on days when she hadn't gotten out of bed or had quite obviously drank too much the night before. It was like he had a sixth sense about when she didn't want to see him. And here he was again today, a thorn in her side when what she really wanted was to be left alone.

With that thought, she tapped delete, and pulled the covers over her face.

Two hours and five insistent calls later, Lisbeth walked into the coffee shop near the Millennium office. Mikael was already sitting at a table with two cups of coffee in front of him.

Lisbeth, with wet locks of black hair sticking from under an olive green winter hat, sunk into the chair across from him and immediately reached for the coffee.

"Rough night, huh?" Mikael asked.

Lisbeth thought about saying something snarky in return, but instead decided to focus on her coffee. After a few long sips, Lisbeth broke the silence, admitting, "I may have had a little too much to drink last night."

"Ah, I never would have guessed," Mikael teased. He was tempted to press for details, but he had learned long ago that she would offer details only on her own terms.

But Lisbeth didn't offer more details, and instead just asked, "You said you had something to talk to me about?"

"I got a call from Bublanski this morning. He didn't have your contact info and couldn't reach you through Annika since she's been out of the country. Interpol has arrested two men who they believe are your half-brothers in Poland. They were linked to the human trafficking and drug running that Zalachenko and Niedermann were involved with."

Lisbeth lifted her eyes from her coffee mug when she heard her father's name.

Mikael continued, "Interpol - and Bublanski seems to agree - that your half-brothers and the small band of co-conspirators that were arrested are the last of Zalachenko's network."

He waited for her reaction, but was met with the same dark eyes and expressionless mouth.

"Do you know what this means? It's over, Lisbeth. This whole fucked-up mess is _over_. You have your freedom and no one from Zalachenko's club is going to bother you ever again."

Lisbeth sat across from Mikael, channeling every ounce of determination towards hiding her feelings from her face and body language. It was something that was second nature to her, but sitting across from Kalle Fucking Blomkvist - who knew more about her than any other living human – made it harder.

She wanted to scream at Mikael, to wipe the smile off his face by telling him that today's news meant nothing to her. To make him understand that she still lived in the prison that was her life. Zalachencko, Ronald Niedermann and countless other awful, evil men may be dead or locked-up, but she was still Lisbeth Salander. She had money and freedom, but it didn't change the fact that she had no job, no family, and no future.

She suddenly became aware that Mikael was waiting for her to say something, to respond in some way to the news he had just delivered. She settled on something simple: "Thanks for letting me know."

As she spoke these words, her mouth remained expressionless but her eyes offered a fleeting glimpse of emotion to Mikael. She looked resigned and unhappy.

For what seemed like the millionth time in his life, Mikael felt certain that he could never fully understand Lisbeth Salander. She was certainly never a victim and had proven over and over again that she was tougher than nails. But there she was, sitting across the table from him, and he couldn't help but see that under the surface she was far more vulnerable than she let on.

Lisbeth saw the confused expression on Mikael's face and knew she needed to get out of this coffee shop. She started to get up to leave, but Mikael grabbed her arm with force that startled her.

"Hey, what's going on?" Mikael asked. "You're not happy."

She sunk back into the chair, twisting her arm from his grip.

"It's none of your god damn business, but no, I'm not happy. Satisfied that you have figured me out for once, Kalle?"

"Oh, shut up Pippi. I don't claim – or even pretend – to understand you. Either you can sulk about whatever is bothering you, or you can do something about it. I've never pegged you as the woman who chooses to sulk."

Lisbeth remained silent, only returning his comments with a glare.

Mikael continued: "Look, I know you don't like talking about yourself. I get that, I swear I do. But I'm your friend, and I wouldn't be worth much if I didn't call you out on your bullshit. Do you think I'm blind, Lisbeth? Every time I see or talk to you, you are either drunk, high, hung-over, or asleep."

Lisbeth eyed the door, wanting nothing more than to escape what was becoming an increasingly uncomfortable conversation. She was furious at Mikael for having the nerve to question what she did with her life, but on the other hand, her unhappiness had reached a level where it was difficult to ignore, even for her.

"Lisbeth, you are obviously unhappy. Tell me why, and we can come up with a plan to fix it."

Lisbeth nearly exploded. It was just like Kalle Fucking Blomkvist to think that he could wave a magic wand and make her train-wreck of a life all better.

"You think you can fix me and my fucked-up life, huh? Can you make the paparazzi stop following me? Can you get me a job that doesn't involve illegally digging around in people's lives? Can you bring my mother back from the dead? Fuck you, Kalle Blomkvist. Fuck you."

With that, she stormed out into the streets of Stockholm, just as the snow began to fall.

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	2. Chapter 2

Mikael sat alone in the coffee shop for a long time after Lisbeth left. It was clear that she was more than unhappy - she had given up. Seeing her in such a state of distress made him feel frustrated, angry, and sick to his stomach.

Of course, he felt angry at those who had made Lisbeth's life a miserable mess, but he also felt a real sense of anger at her for her attitude of indifference about the future and how difficult she made it for people to be close to her.

The truth was that Mikael cared deeply about Lisbeth. In fact, when he was honest with himself, he recognized that he cared about Lisbeth as much as Nilla, Annika, and Erika, the very most important people in his life.

Mikael knew Lisbeth thought that his loyalty was about repaying debts, but it didn't have anything to do with what happened in Martin Vanger's basement. Even before that awful night, Mikael had begun to care deeply about Lisbeth; everything that had happened in the years since had only solidified his feelings her.

At times, he was afraid that he loved her, that he had fallen for her amid their misadventures together. But he always concluded that love was a label too simple for how he felt about Lisbeth. The sex had been great, mind-blowing even, and Mikael was sure Lisbeth felt the same way. But in truth, Mikael didn't care whether he was the one to share a bed with Lisbeth, as long as she found the life she wanted.

The problem, he decided, was that Lisbeth didn't know how to be happy. She had probably never, in her entire life, felt safe, secure, or content. Now that she had an opportunity to achieve these keys to happiness, she had no clue how to make it happen. She had very few people in her life to help her get there, and making matters worse, it appeared that she was turning inward and shutting out the few people who cared about her.

Mikael knew enough about psychology to understand that Lisbeth was probably clinically depressed, and he couldn't blame her for that. He also knew that depression could be a vicious cycle, impairing a person from doing the very things that could help them escape the darkness of their mind.

There was no doubt in Mikael's mind that Lisbeth had reached a crossroad: she needed to break this vicious cycle, or she would spend the rest of her life trapped in unhappiness. What he wasn't so sure about was what he could do to push her down the right path.

Mikael finally decided that Lisbeth - despite her uniqueness - probably needed the same things that allow most people to feel content: companionship and a purpose in life. With that in mind, he hatched a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbeth heard a knock on the door through the haze of sleep. She let herself think she was dreaming until she felt something stir next to her. She sat up straight in bed, and was rewarded with a wave nausea. After giving it a second to pass, she slid out of bed and quietly pulled on a black tank top that had been hastily discarded to the floor the night before. She tiptoed to towards the door, being careful not to wake the man still asleep in the bed.

By the time she made it to the entry hallway, the knocking had stopped. Lisbeth didn't need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Relieved that he had given up, Lisbeth shuffled towards the kitchen but stopped suddenly when she heard a key turn in the lock. _That bastard._

Mikael, juggling a laptop case and a bag from the neighborhood bakery, slowly opened the door.

"Hey, hey! What do you think you're doing?" Lisbeth yelled at him.

"Ah, good morning to you too, Merry Sunshine," he replied dryly.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment, and give me that god damn key, you fucking asshole."

"Wow, that was an impressive string of expletives, even for you. I am clearly in the presence of greatness this morning. Go get in the shower. I'll start some coffee."

Before Lisbeth could reply, a tall shirtless figure appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. Mikael looked at the strange man and then back at Lisbeth.

Speaking directly to Lisbeth, Mikael said: "Tell your boyfriend it's time to go home. And go put on some clothes, for god's sake."

Lisbeth grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it at Mikael, before turning and walking towards the bedroom, ushering her bed partner in with her. She slammed the door behind her.

Pulling a dirty pair of sweatpants on, she turned to the British graduate student who she had met at a bar the night before. What the hell was his name? Paul, maybe? Not that it mattered; she didn't plan to see him again.

"You have to go," Lisbeth said.

"Um, is that your dad? Is he going to kill me or something?" the guy said as he put his clothes on. He appeared to only be half-joking.

"No, he's not my dad, and no, he's not going to kill you, but I might if you don't go now," she replied curtly, ushering him towards the bedroom door.

Opening the apartment door to the outside hallway, Lisbeth was aware of Mikael's eyes peering at them from the kitchen, and made a rash decision. If Kalle Fucking Blomkvist is going to show up uninvited, she would give him a show. She grabbed her one-night-stand and planted a passionate kiss on the thoroughly confused Brit.

With her one-night-stand gone, Lisbeth marched back into the apartment to confront Mikael, but suddenly felt uneasy on her feet and unsure if she if she could keep down the remnants of last night's drinking. She quickly made a detour to the bathroom where she alternated heaving into the toilet bowl and laying on the ceramic tiles for the the next thirty minutes.

When it had finally passed, brushed her teeth, she took a long shower, and dressed in jeans and a fresh T-shirt.

Emerging from her room, she made a beeline for the couch, where she attempted to ignore Mikael as he puttered around her apartment, emptying ashtrays and discarding empty food containers. He even poured out half a bottle of vodka that had been sitting on the counter, as if she wasn't capable of buying more. When the apartment was more or less in order, Mikael settled in an armchair across from the couch. As if it were a peace offering, he handed her a cup of coffee which she begrudgingly accepted.

"You think I don't understand you, and you're right. I don't understand you. But it doesn't take a rocket scientist - or even an investigative journalist - to see that you are on a self-destructive path. I'm afraid if you don't change direction, I'm going to show up here one day soon and find you dead."

Lisbeth opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say a word, Mikael raised his hand to silence her.

"Let me finish. Yesterday, you made it clear that your life isn't what you want it to be. This is obviously not the first time you've felt this way, but this is the first time I've seen you hesitate to take control of your life. That's what really scares me."

Mikael continued: "All this stops today. You're not interested in working for Milton Security anymore, and that's fine but it's time to find something else you want to do. Give yourself a reason to get out of bed in the morning. You're the smartest person I've ever met. Put it to good use. I understand that it may take some time for you to figure out what you want to do, so in the meantime, you're working for me at Millenium. I could use the help, and frankly, you're the best researcher I know. But nothing illegal - we've done enough of that, and while I don't regret it, I need to protect the magazine."

Lisbeth's head was starting to spin. Mikael handed her a piece of paper, but she could barely focus with the dull ache of her head, churning stomach, and the weight of the conversation.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It's your schedule. It's got your Millenium hours and some other important appointments. You said yesterday that I couldn't fix your life and you're right. I can't. But I can give you a shove in the direction of fixing it yourself. It won't make up for a horrific childhood, but you have people who care about you, and it's time you embraced that. When was the last time you saw Palmgren?"

Lisbeth stared at her coffee mug in embarrassment.

"Right, that's what I thought. Every Saturday, Palmgren will expect you at noon for lunch. Play chess or whatever - I don't care - but you can't ignore a man who has stood by you for over a decade. Paolo Roberto - remember him? He has boxing sessions at his gym Tuesday and Thursday nights at 8:30. He wants to see you there. And on Sundays, I'll pick you up at six to go to Annika's for our Sunday night family dinner."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Mikael said suddenly, getting up from his chair. He grabbed a screwdriver from his bag and walked into Lisbeth's bedroom.

"Hey, where are you going?" Lisbeth said, following.

Mikael was quick. He was already standing on a chair, removing the curtains from the large window in the bedroom. Before Lisbeth could stop him, the curtain and its rod came crashing to the floor.

"No more sleeping all day," Mikael said with a smile.

Everything suddenly became more than she could bare. She needed to escape, for just a few minutes at least, to gather her thoughts. She turned without a word, and stumbled towards the guest bedroom further down the hall. She closed the door behind her, locked it and sank to the floor.

A guest bedroom, what a joke, she thought for the thousandth time as the first tears escaped from her eyes. What a fucking joke. Lisbeth rarely let herself dwell on her mother's years in a nursing home and eventual death because it seemed pointless. It didn't change anything, and it usually lead to Lisbeth digging through complex layers of sadness, loneliness, regret, and guilt. But tonight, the pain felt particularly acute and it was harder to push the feelings aside, so she let herself cry.

She lay there long enough to fall asleep, and woke up disoriented several hours later. Through the window, she could tell the January sky was already getting dark, but she didn't get up. Although the tears had long passed, thoughts of her mother haunted her.

Part of Lisbeth felt like this was her fate, laying on the cold floor of an empty apartment alone forever. What was the point of getting up? There was nothing for her in this world. The truth was, any potential her life had once held ended abruptly when she was twelve.

Images of her mother drifted through her mind - the sound of laughter as she pushed Lisbeth on the swing in the park near their apartment; humming as she cooked dinner in the evening; the look on her face when Zalachenko showed up at the door.

Lisbeth's mind kept returning to a memory from when she was about seven. Her mother had been called to the school after she had hit a boy who had been picking on her at recess. Sitting in the hallway outside the classroom, Lisbeth could hear the conversation between her mother and teacher.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Ms. Salander. While Camilla is excelling, Lisbeth does not interact well with the other students, can't manage to make a single friend, and as you know, this is not the first time she has acted out. She's incredibly difficult to deal with, and given her recent academic struggles, I worry that her IQ is well below average. Frankly, she shouldn't be in this school with normal kids. I know you've resisted when I've raised this issue in the past, but I continue to think she would be better served at a boarding school for kids with special needs," her teacher said.

When her mother emerged, Lisbeth threw herself at her mom, crying "Mama, please don't send me away. I'll let the boys steal my lunch money, I promise."

Lisbeth's mother sighed heavily and kneeled down next to her daughter. "Lisbeth, I would never send you away for defending yourself. There are bad people in the world. Always stand up for yourself. It's something I wish I was better at," she said with sad eyes. Looking directly at Lisbeth, she smiled and said: "Your teacher just doesn't see what I see. To me, you are the smartest, strongest, most special girl in the world, and I don't care what anyone else thinks."

Then just like she did every night before bed, she leaned in and kissed Lisbeth on the nose and said: "Things will get better, I promise."

When she was little, Lisbeth actually believed those last words, but that seemed like a long time ago now. If she was alive today, would she still be proud? Laying on the cold floor in her empty spare bedroom, Lisbeth felt confident that the answer would be a resounding no.

"This is the first time I've seen you hesitate to take control of your life," Mikael had said earlier. It irked Lisbeth to admit it, but he was right.

She had to make a decision. Either regain control and keep hoping for a better day tomorrow, or lie shivering on floor. Lisbeth's stomach growled. Her hangover had passed, and she realized she hadn't eaten anything all day. She slowly stood up, unlocked the door, and left the empty bedroom.

In the warm light of the living room, she was not at all surprised to see Mikael sitting on her couch, reading a book.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I was harsh earlier but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say something," Mikael said in a gentle tone. "You've been through a hell I can't even imagine, but you can't let your father win."

"Give me two months," he pleaded. "If you're still unhappy after two months, I promise I'll just shut my mouth, let you live your life the way you want to, and not say a word. But I swear it isgoing to get better, Lisbeth."

Lisbeth looked at him for a moment before answering with a soft "okay". A broad smile spread across Mikael's face. He was briefly tempted to hug her but decided not to push his luck.

Lisbeth started walking towards the door, picking her coat up off a chair on the way.

"Where are you going?" Mikael called after her.

"Food," she yelled back and kept walking. After a couple steps, she stopped. Turning slowly to face Mikael, she said, "You can come with me, if you want."

Mikael smiled again, grabbed his coat, and hurried after her.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Apologies for the short chapter, but for now, I'm choosing frequency over length. I should have another chapter in a few days.**

The next morning, Lisbeth immediately regretted agreeing to Mikael's silly plan. She had been in the fog of a particularly low point in her life.

Smoking a cigarette on her balcony, Lisbeth thought about getting on a plane and heading to an isolated island in the Caribbean where she could return to anonymity.

After a moment, Lisbeth shook her head and snubbed out her cigarette. Leaving wouldn't solve much. She had run before, and she still ended up back in her messy Stockholm life, more unhappy than ever. Facing her life would be miserable but it was ultimately inevitable.

Much to Lisbeth's annoyance, Mikael knocked on her door in the early evening. He said he was just stopping by since he was in the neighborhood but Lisbeth knew better - he was checking up on her. She wouldn't start her new job at Millenium until Monday morning, but he clearly wasn't going to leave her alone in the meantime.

He stayed for dinner, and then settled on her couch to watch a movie, not leaving until close to midnight. Lisbeth was not pleased, and she was even more frustrated when he did the same thing the following day.

When Saturday rolled around, Lisbeth was relieved to have a sanctioned excuse to escape Mikael for a few hours. She took the tunnelbana to the assisted living complex where Holger Palmgren had recently moved. With the help of intensive therapy, his condition had improved dramatically, and he was now able to live somewhat independently.

Lisbeth and her former guardian spent the afternoon playing chess. She felt relieved that Holger didn't push conversation and seemed content to spend the time quietly. She wasn't sure what Mikael had told him about her recent behavior, but she felt certain it hadn't been a good report. She was just about to leave when he finally broached the subject.

"That journalist is worried about you," he said.

"I know," she replied quietly, looking down at her hands.

"He's afraid you're going to hurt yourself."

Snapping her eyes back up to meet Palmgren's, she said forcefully, "I'll be fine,"

"Lisbeth, I've never worried about your physical well-being - you always manage to get through things. I used to think that meant you'd always be okay, but I'm not so sure anymore," Palmgren said. After pausing for a moment to think, he continued:

"A lot of things in life are outside our control, but how you respond is your choice, and you know that. It seems like you have a choice to make."

"I'll be fine," she said again through gritted teeth. She grabbed her coat and started walking towards the door, the anger building in her with every step.

By the time she reached the threshold, Lisbeth couldn't hold her anger inside any longer. Turning around, she said with a raised voice, "I'll be fine, but I'd be a lot better if people like you would stop trying to psychoanalyze and fix me. My life is none of your goddamn business."

She turned on her heel and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

Once outside, Lisbeth walked at a fast clip toward the tunnelbana, slowing only to fish a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket. Her mind was swirling with anger as she puffed on her cigarette, but as she got closer to the tunnelbana station, a knot of guilt started forming in her stomach.

Lisbeth wasn't stupid - she knew she made it difficult for people to be close to her. She wasn't capable of being a social person or making small talk, and she had designed her life in a way that protected her from people. The few times she had let her guard down, she had been burned. It was much easier to remain closed off from the people around her.

Lisbeth suddenly felt like a truly awful person. Palmgren was the closest thing to family she had, and as angry as she was at the world, she had to admit that Palmgren didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of any of those feelings. The idea of losing him was enough to make her heart ache.

Turning around, Lisbeth went back to Palmgren's apartment. She knocked softly, and after a moment, Palmgren opened the door and they were once again face-to-face.

"I'm sorry," Lisbeth blurted out, as if she needed to say the words before she chickened out. She felt tears stinging in the corner of her eyes.

Palmgren stood there a moment just looking at Lisbeth, unsure how to respond. She looked so lonely and vulnerable, not that different from the teenager he checked out of a mental institution so many years ago.

He found himself pulling Lisbeth into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tiny frame. To his surprise, she didn't pull away.


End file.
